Ratchet, Clank, and the SGC
by adcon
Summary: R&C, SG1 crossover. So when our heros find themselves on earth, who will get to them first? SG1, or the NID? Rated T for Language
1. It Begins

So, My first Ratchet and Clank story. I hope you like it.Also, I own none of the characters in this story, they are owned by their prospective companies. I'm just taking them out for some fresh air.Enjoy!And please, review, it's the only way I'll learn!

Space. It's big, huge, gigantic, even. It's also friggin' empty, when you get right down to it. Sure, there are thousands of inhabited worlds out there, but when you really think about it, space is just nothingness. Empty, friggin' nothingness. Empty, boring, gigantic, friggin'-

"Anything interesting?" a voice said, breaking the train of thought.

Ratchet looked over at the small robot sitting next to him in the space ship. Clank was there, looking back up at him, a technical manual in his hands, "Servo Repairs for Idiotic Numbskulls," or something of the sort. It was always an amusing sight, Clank sitting in a seat that was a bit too big for him; he looked like a child on his first space trip.

Ratchet smiled, realized he had been daydreaming out the window, and shook his head, "Nope. Space, its empty, yah know?"

"That it is," Clank responded, turning back to his book.

The navigational computer chirped, as it did so hourly since their trip began, "Thirteen hours to destination."

Ratchet leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head, a restless mood upon his face. He couldn't check the holonet, did that already. Six hundred channels and nothing on.

A sigh escaped his lips. "Man, we never do anything important anymore."

"We are opening an ulti-mall on Selsis Three, one could consider that important." Clank never looked up from his book.

"No, that's not what I mean. That's just making a quick bolt. I'm talking about 'saving the galaxy' important. How are we ever gonna top that?"

"Hopefully, we won't have too." The computer screen on Clank's side beeped, and began streaming data. The robot pressed a few buttons, accessing the data, the book off to his side.

Ratchet leaned over, attempting to get a better look at friends screen. "What's this about?"

Clank shrugged, turning his head to the lombax. "I programmed the computer to scan for certain anomalies in space, and I believe it's just found one." The chrome-buffed automaton tapped the screen, and the anomaly in question popped up.

A flash of recognition moved through Ratchet. "A nebula, huh?"

"It appears so," Clank said, "But this particular nebula has a high concentration of tetrion particles."

"Nebulas always have a high concentration of something, that's why they're nebulas. But tetrions, huh? Weren't they used in those failed wormhole experiments a few years back?"

"Yes, I remember reading on that subject."

Ratchet did an inward cringe. He didn't like reminding his friend about his age, or lack there-of. It must be hard of the little robot, only having an observatory opinion on events that happened even up to little over a year ago. But Clank took it in stride, and he was learning more every day. Ratchet would probably never say it out loud, but he was proud of his friend and his perseverance.

"So how far away is it?" Ratchet asked, his hands on the controls.

"We should be coming up on it now," Clank answered, staring outside the ship.

Indeed they were. It was a beautiful sight to behold. The nebula had a strange loveliness to it, as if someone had dripped many different colors of paint on the canvas of space, and then used their thumb to smudge and swirl it around.

"You do realize you won't get very detailed information. After all, this isn't a science vessel."

"Yes, I know," Clank answered, "But I would like to try anyway."

"Why? It's not like it's our problem."

"It is everyone's duty to further the quest of science." Clank had that tone in his voice that suggested there was no arguing with him.

"Alright, alright!" Ratchet held his hands up in mock surrender, "Look, we got a schedule to keep, so how 'bout this? We head to this nebula, register it with the 'Intergalactic Nebula Registry', or whoever does that kind of stuff, and we drop a com-buoy for any passing science ships inviting them to take a look. And, if you want, we can check up on it on the way home. How's that sound?"

Clank pondered over this proposal for a few moments. Ratchet could tell that his friend was disappointed; the little robot always got excited over discovering something new.

"Deal," he finally said, "As long as we stop by on the way back."

"Cool," Ratchet agreed, his hands back on the controls, "C'mon, let's go drop off that com-buoy."


	2. Nebula Trouble

So, the second chapter. I hope somebody actually reads this, otherwise my life will have no meaning. Ha nervous laughter! Anyway, I hope you like this chapter as well, since you clicked on the 'next chapter' button, and if you don't, its your own darn fault! Anyway, happy reading!

The dark hull of the ship was easily masked by the blackness of space as it moved closer to the nebula. One might think that nothing was there, if not for the green light emanating from the engines. The vessel, under Ratchet's command, began to level out about 500 meters from the nebula, until it was approximately parallel with the nebula's closest edge.

Turning to Clank, Ratchet asked: "Close enough?"

"Yes," the metal-plated mechanism approved, "This is an excellent spot." A button was tapped, a ding was sounded, and the com-buoy was launched. The two could feel the rumble as it entered space; it was a small ship, after all. The buoy did exactly what it was programmed to do, and stopped about halfway between the ship and the nebula.

"So, now that that's done, what's next?"

But Clank was preoccupied with something else, staring at the computer screen. "I'm receiving some very odd readings," He finally said.

"How odd?" Ratchet asked.

"I would suggest pulling the ship away."

Ratchet didn't respond vocally, but he did maneuver their vessel several kilometers distance from the nebula.

The nebula itself was going through a very strange transformation. Instead of the bright and colorful cloud it once was, it had become a condensed area of dark red and crackling energy, as if all of the nebula's stored and contained rage had been released in a huge fit of cosmic fury. Even the light around the nebula began to waver, signaled by the phenomena becoming blurrier. This was not a good sign.

The ship itself began to shake and rattle, and started moving closer to the nebula on its seemingly own volition.

"The nebula has begun to emit a huge gravitational field!" Clank explained, his hands working furiously on the computer screen in front of him.

"That's great!" Ratchet sarcastically replied, his hands at the controls, trying to free his craft from the nebula's grip, "Now how do we get out of it?"

"I'm not sure!" Clank said, "Let me work on it!"

"Work faster!" Ratchet added.

Their ship had already fully entered the nebula, and was approaching the center of the maelstrom. A tight ball of gases was at its place, and as the vessel drew near, it blossomed into a wave of blue and yellow energy.

"The nebula must have reacted with the com-buoy! We have succeeded where others have not!" Clank exclaimed, a melding of panic and joy in his voice.

"What are you talking about?" Ratchet yelled over the shrieking of the engines.

"We have created a wormhole!"

Pieces of the ship's armor were tearing off, flinging into the wormhole. The craft began to convulse more violently, giving everything it had not to follow the same fate as the com-buoy.

"We're gonna get torn apart if we keep this up!" Ratchet shouted, gripping the controls for dear life.

"Head into the wormhole!" Clank shouted back.

"What, are you crazy!" the lombax responded.

"It's our only chance! We'll die here if we don't!"

Ratchet growled, but he did turn the ship so the nose was directly aimed at the center of the galactic monstrosity. The craft's reverse engines were working at full power, but they were still heading into the rift. With one last yell, Ratchet cut power to the reverse engines, and into the wormhole they went.


	3. A shootout in space

So, chapter three. Has it really been this far already? Sorry to everyone for not naming my chapters, but if I started now, it would look weird, so too bad. Anyway, if you've gotten this far, you must really think this story has potential, or you want to know all the facts before you trash it. Either way, please review! I'm a review whore. So sad, but true. Happy reading!

A single planet appeared in their view after they exited the wormhole, a stark contrast to the hellish insanity of the nebula. Debris floated past, the torn armor plates from the ship. The planet was covered mostly in blue, patches of green peeked out over the large cloud cover. A single moon orbited the planet, its gray mass like a silent sentry over the world.

Ratchet was the first to recover. "What's the damage?" he finally asked.

Clank shook his head and tore himself from the vision of the planet to his computer screen. He tapped the screen thrice, and brought up a detailed cross-section of the ship.

"The hyperdrive engines are trashed, so are shields and weapons, and our long range com-system. But every thing else seems to be working," he responded.

"Perfect, just perfect, " Ratchet flicked a switch on his side of the cockpit, activating the short-range distress beacon, "Now we wait."

"Hopefully, someone on the planet will receive the transmission and rescue us." Clank stared out at the planet beyond, "It really is a beautiful world."

"They all seem beautiful from space," Ratchet said, leaning back with crossed arms again, it seemed to be a comfortable position for him, "But then you land on the planet, it all goes downhill from there, what with the killer robots, killer locals, and the killer wildlife, all those nice things."

"That's a pretty cynical outlook," Clank observed.

"I can be a pretty cynical guy," Ratchet affirmed.

The last statement killed their conversation, and they sat in silence, both looking past the ship to the stars. This lasted for several minutes, until the computer beeped and began displaying new information.

Clank read the data off the screen, paraphrasing as he went, "A large mass has appeared behind us. Judging from its shape, I believe it is a ship with a cloaking device."

"Hey, as long as there's a ship out there," Ratchet said, maneuvering their vessel to bring it nose-down on the other ship. It had a brown color all around it; the whole craft shaped like a blown-up racing fin.

Flipping two switches, one to de-activate the distress beacon, the second to turn on the short-range com-radio, Ratchet began to speak.

"Thanks for responding to the beacon, ran into a little nebula trouble on the way here. Say, if you could tow us to the nearest ship repair depot, we would gladly pay you for your trouble."

"Ratchet, I'm reading an energy signature from the other ship." Clank warned.

"Their probably just turning on their tractor beam," the lombax explained, "Don't worry, the worse is over, nothings going to-"

That was when the ship's targeting alarms went off, and the other vessel fired their first volley directly into the nose of Ratchet and Clank's fighter, damaging it severely.

"They fired at us!" Clank stated the obvious.

"I know!" Ratchet answered back, bringing the flight engines off of stand-by, moving out of the enemy craft's range.

But it was too late, for as Ratchet tried to fly their ship under the enemy vessel, they fired a second volley into the fighter's midsection, knocking out the engines and sending it drifting through space.

A hissing noise could be heard in the cockpit, the air becoming thinner as the computer screamed an alert: "Warning: The cabin is depressurizing, please evacuate the vessel. Thirty seconds to complete depressurization."

Ratchet opened the compartment between the two seats, pulled out the O2 mask he had placed there, silently thanking himself as be pulled it over his head and activated it.

Clank switched over to short-wave radio, his mouth still moving to his transmitted speech. "What do we do now?" he asked.

"We bail," Ratchet answered, pulling a small lever to the left side of his seat. With a final gust of air, the cabin top shot out into space. After unhooking their seat belts, Ratchet and Clank followed, kicking off from their seats to the darkness beyond.

The enemy vessel had spun on its axis, taking aim at the two heroes floating in the abyss. Its velocity was increasing, appearing larger as it moved closer.

Clank had used his thrusters to move closer to Ratchet, using up the last of his fuel. He had always meant to refill, but he have never gotten around to it. The drifting lombax grabbed the robot's arm and pulled him closer. Then he realized what the other ship was trying to do.

"They're going to ram us," He said, "After everything we've been through, this is how it ends."

"No, not like this…" The robot said weakly.

But as the enemy craft sped up, it was clear that Ratchet was correct. The two looked away and shut their eyes, sure that this was the end; that this was their final brush with Death and now it was time to collect. They tensed up for the final impact-

But it never came. Nothing happened. They weren't spatters on some jerk's windshield, and they still had all their body parts.

"What happened?" Ratchet asked, confused by the unusual turn of events.

Clank simply pointed a thick finger upward, or at least upward by their orientation, and Ratchet followed the fingers implied direction.

The other craft hovered over them, matching their speed of drift, as if this was the plan all along. From their vantage point, Ratchet and Clank could clearly see a curious ring on the underside of the ship, with an unknown script circling the ring. The strange ring opened up, and four more rings, silver this time, moved around the pair, until they were at the center of this strange column. A flash of bright light overtook their senses, the feeling that they were slightly leaving reality ran through them, and the two found themselves inside the ship.

The room was bathed in gold light, emanating from the ceiling. The walls were covered, from top to bottom, with more of the same odd text similar to what was on the ring on the outer hull of the ship. Gravity was available on the vessel, which the duo discovered when they fell hard onto the floor. The same rings that had surrounded them outside were here, as well, gliding into the floor, eventually being covered by a replica of the text-covered ring they had seen in space. Of course, Ratchet wasn't concerned with any of this; he was clearly focused on the dark opening to the front of the ship.

"Ok, what the hell is your problem?" Ratchet yelled through the opening, as he took off is O2 mask, "First, you shoot us down, then you rescue us? Make up your freakin' mind!" His fists were clenched, he was tired of having bad things happening to him, and was ready to vent his aggression on the first being that came through the doorway first.

"Ratchet, this may not be the best course of action," Clank warned.

Ratchet turned to the robot, "You know what, I don't care. I just want to kick the ass of whoever blew up my ship!" He jammed his thumb at the entryway.

Almost as a response, a creature from the other side of the shadowy portal lifted their arm, aiming a mechanism at the pissed-off lombax. This device had a copper tone to it, it's shape reminiscent of a backwards 's'. With a faint hum and cock, the top part of the device moving up, barring an emitter, like a snake ready to strike. It was clear now that this device as a weapon.

"Aw, crap," Ratchet said.

The hand that held the weapon pulled the trigger twice, and two bolts of energy fired from the snake-weapon, striking the pair. The last thing Ratchet say, before falling into darkness, was the figure standing over him, a slight smile on his lips.


	4. Stupid Intercom!

My goodness, this story is going by fast. I can't believe chapter four is already here. Who knew that this story could keep my attention long enough? Who would dream that someone would actually read this? Are you tired of useless questions? Well, so am I! Sorry for the drabble.

Important information: Now that I'm starting the SG-1 side of the story, I have to start dealing with problems of when to set it in the series. Well, here goes:

This story takes place sometime after Daniel de-ascends, but before General Hammond leaves SG-1. Also, since I like the character, I'm keeping Doctor Fraiser alive. She's one of my favorite characters, and if this messes up the timeline, well, too bad! Here we go, Chapter 4…

By the way, I own none of the characters used in this story, their respective companies own them. Darn it. Stupid .com bubble burst. Anyway, here we go, chapter four.

Colonel Jack O'Neill was in bliss, his head resting on the soft pillow. It wasn't often that he was able to get a full eight hours of sleep, and he intended not to be conscious for all of it. All he had to do was to stop moving, let the exhaustion take over, let himself fall into dreamland…

"Colonel O'Neill," The intercom on the wall crackled, dastardly bringing him back to the land of the awake.

Jack rolled away from the evil intercom, attempting to ignore the voices calling him back to duty.

"Colonel O'Neill…" the intercom said again, intent on winning this battle of wits.

Jack countered by covering his head with the pillow, getting the upper hand with his ability to move, something the intercom did not posses.

But the vile communication apparatus would have none of it, parrying O'Neill's maneuver with one of its own. "Colonel O'Neill, please respond," it said even louder, piercing the sonic protection of the down pillow.

The colonel grunted and rolled over, eventually staring at the belt on the floor. He wondered if he still had his sidearm with him, but, no, he had already checked it into the armory when he got back from off-world.

Jack sighed, staring at the intercom. One day, the intercom would fall.

A deep yawn had surrounded his face, and he covered his mouth, not wishing to be rude to the passerby. Jack was told, by the airman on the intercom, that General

Hammond had called a meeting that SG-1 was to attend, and he would be told was the purpose of the meeting was when he arrived in the conference room. Normally, the general was not as mysterious as this when it came to meetings, but when he was, he usually had a good reason.

Now, Colonel O'Neill could think of three good reasons why Hammond wouldn't want someone else to know why he was meeting with SG-1. One: it could deal with a development concerning a mission O'Neill's team went on that was later deeply classified for some reason, there certainly are a bunch of those to look back on. Two: there might be a possible foothold situation, and SG-1 might be the only team the general could trust at the moment. Three, and this was definitely not the colonel's favorite: the NID might be involved. Jack clenched his fist as he walked; trying to suppress is anger. Everybody knew of his hated of the NID. Well, maybe "hated" is too strong a word, more like a **vehement** dislike for the NID, including everything they do, and everyone who works for them.

Fifteen minutes and a quick cup of coffee later, Jack finally entered the conference room, and he could see that his team had already taken their prospective places at the table. Samantha Cater was busy flipping through papers in the file she brought with her, probably performing head calculations on the formulas in front of her. Daniel Jackson also brought a folder with him, but he was scribbling furiously on a notepad; Jack often thought that the man was a living Rosetta stone. Teal'c was sitting silently in his chair, staring out into space, complacent with his own thoughts. He was also the first to react to Jack's presence.

"O'Neill," he stated, bringing the others out of their self-imposed mental exile.

"Oh, hey, didn't hear you come in," Cater said, shuffling papers back into her folder.

Daniel was doing the same, "Yeah, you kinda crept up on us," he added.

"It's good to see you're finally here," General Hammond said as he walked through his office door.

"Well, you know, sir, it's not like I had anything else to do, like sleeping, for instance," Jack responded, sipping the last of his coffee.

"Let's get started, shall we?" Hammond changed the subject, "I'm sure you're all wondering why I brought you here." He moved to the end of the table, picked up a small gray remote, and pointed it at the large television screen facing them. "The images I am about to show you were taken six hours ago from a deep space monitoring station in Alaska," and with a press on the remote, the general brought up the images in question.

A star field appeared in their view, low detailed by SG-1's standards. Text was visible in the lower right corner, stating when the image was taken, where above the Earth the image was taken, and who took the image. But the focus of the image was clear, for right in the center, was a starship. The ship had a dark hue to it, and if it wasn't for the green glow of its engines, it could have easily blended into space. Its overall shape was that of a dart, whether this was for atmospheric flight or for speed was unknown. Hammond cycled to another image, but the ship was in relatively in the same position, only drifting slightly. The general went through more pictures, with the craft moving slightly each time, until he stopped at an image which showed the mystery ship, but also had a strange object close to it, almost like a blob, just slightly out of focus. In the next image, it was clear what the blob was.

"A cloaked scout ship," Daniel said, fascinated by this turn of events, "Are any To'kra operating in the area?"

"I don't think so," Sam answered, "But I'll check the local mission list they gave us."

"Actually, we don't think the ship belongs to the To'kra," General Hammond added.

"Then whose ship is it?" Daniel asked.

"Just Watch," the general replied.

He tapped the remote once again, and another image appeared on the screen. The scout vessel and the mystery ship were still there, but a bright flash of light appeared between them, as if it had been willed into existence.

"Weapons fire…" Cater said, confused by the new development.

Another image was brought up. The mystery ship's nose was heavily damaged, and it was moving under the scout ship, most likely attempting to escape. But the scout ship had turned and followed the other craft's descent. In the next image, the mysterious ship's midsection was in the process of an explosion, the damage from another blast from the scout ship. Cycling through another image, it appeared that the scout ship had its attention else where, for its nose was no longer pointed at the mystery vessel. In another image, a bright light had appeared under the scout ship, a ring transporter being used. And in the last image, the ship was in the process of re-cloaking, the battle complete.

"But that's not all we have though," Hammond said, "We also picked up two radio communications from one of our long-range communication satellites. The first was a basic distress signal, but the second one is the one I want you all to hear." He pressed a button on the remote, and the audio file played:

_"Thanks for responding to the beacon, ran into a little nebula trouble on the way here. Say, if you could tow us to the nearest ship repair depot, we would gladly pay you for your trouble."_

"They were asking for help," Daniel exclaimed, "They were asking for help, and the scout ship fired at them!"

"But who would attack a defenseless ship like that?" Cater said, stunned.

"The NID," Jack spat, as if it were a curse word, "This falls right under their 'protect Earth at any cost" routine."

"I agree," Teal'c add, "This course of action is characteristic of the group."

"That's what we think too," Hammond said, "But this time, they messed up. Whatever they took aboard their ship is emitting an unusual power signature that's been bleeding through their cloak. And with the Prometheus's advanced sensors, we've been able to track them to a warehouse in Colorado Springs."

"So we go there and recover whatever they may have taken from that other ship." Jack said, ready to roll.

"Or whoever," Daniel added, "There's still the possibility that pilot of that ship is still alive."

"Right, or whoever," O'Neill parroted, "So, General, when do we leave?"

Hammond smiled to himself; Jack could be so predictable sometimes. "SG-1 and SG-3 leaves for Colorado Springs in thirty minutes. The NID's gotten too confident and made a mistake, it's time that we capitalize on it."


	5. Captivity just ain't what it used to be

Wow, did I forget this.

Hey, for the people who couldn't figure it out, the R&C side of the story is based after the first game, but before the second, so the characters wouldn't be so battle-hardened and tough. I like a little innocence in my characters, so sue me. Oh, and there might be spoilers for the first game, but I think I had one already, so I you were surprised, what the heck are you doing reading this fanfic?

**Chapter 5**

_I'm dead. That's got to be it. I got shot and died. . . . So why does it feel so . . . cold? That can't be right. Death is death; you don't feel anything. But I do feel cold. Why? Maybe I'm not dead. _

_Then, if I'm not dead, where the hell am I?_

With an absolute reluctance, Ratchet opened his eyes. The color gray was the first thing that his brain registered. Then his neck acted up, having to hold his head at an odd angle for so long. He sat up, holding his neck, when other body parts complained of inactivity. From the feel of it, his whole body was sore.

"How long was I out?" Ratchet wondered out loud. The room he was in gave no indication of time, for every surrounding was gray. The walls, the ceiling, the carpet on the floor, everything was doused in the melancholy color. The room was also quite small, with only a few square meters of space on the floor, though there was plenty of legroom for Ratchet to stand. In fact, it all reminded him of a---

"Closet," he finished the thought out loud, "I'm stuck in a closet." Though he didn't have any proof of his last statement, he was pretty sure he was right. He and Clank weren't shot out the sky, rescued, shot again, and then locked in a closet for hugs and candy. And if they were, it'd just be weird and creepy. So, for right now, Ratchet was going with the 'prisoner' theory. It was a better mental image all around.

Now that he had the gist of the situation, he had to find a way out of said situation. Fortunately, he had just the trick: Be so annoying that his captors would open the door to shut him up, and then take out the guards with the element of surprise. And if there was one thing Ratchet was good at, it was being annoying.

………………………………………………

The time on his digital watch read "6:53." Barely a minute had past since Jack last checked it. He was getting restless, drumming his fingers on the dashboard in front of him. It wasn't like he didn't wait often, that wasn't the case. But he was always anxious when he did so. It was kind of funny, now that he thought about it, a Black Ops soldier having a problem sitting still.

After receiving the go-ahead from General Hammond to put together a rescue operation for the kidnapped alien, Jack had decided that a three four-man-team approach would be best way to go at it. SG-1 would be in command of the other two teams involved, taking point when the mission began.

It would be a simple operation, storming the warehouse and taking down the hostiles inside before they had a chance to react. Basic tactics 101. Of course, even the best-laid plans had a chance of going wrong…

Especially if SG-1 happens to be involved.

The alarm on his digital watch sounded, the small screen flashing "7:00." Go time.

Silently, O'Neill and Carter stepped out onto the cold pavement, watching as their breath hung in the air. Soon enough, the two separated and began making their way to the warehouse. Teal'c and Daniel would use a different entrance, but in the end their mission was the same.


	6. No social life for alien babysitters

And now we move on to the next chapter. Before I forget, thanks to the person who beta'd Chapter 5 for me, but it seems I've forgotten your name here. So please, for the love of god, remind me so I can properly thank you!

**Chapter 6**

It was a simple room, purely functional, as was it was intended to be. Still, you'd think that with all the money the faction had, they could afford to spruce up the warehouse a little, make it a bit more livable.

Or at the very least install soundproof doors for the closets.

"Just how long has he been making that racket?" Dylan asked his partner, resting his arms on the card table and rubbing his temples with the tips of his fingers. Watching a potential alien threat was never easy, but this was becoming painful.

Peter checked his watch, "About ten minutes now. Why, is it bothering you?" Ah, the lord of the understatement.

Dylan glared, "Gee, yah think? You know what, never mind, just play." The guard proceeded to pick up a hand of playing cards and study his options.

"Don't rush me," Peter said, running his hand though his thinning hair, which Dylan often remarked was falling out by the minute.

Moments passed, if not silently, thanks to the alien, and Peter laid his cards down face up, "Gin."

The other guard tossed his cards in the air, fed up with the situation. "Why the hell do I even try?" he said, standing up and pacing the room.

"Well, if you don't like rummy we can play poker," Peter placated.

But Dylan was having none of it. "It's not the cards," he began, slamming his palms down on the table. "It's everything. It's being stuck in this damn warehouse for four hours straight babysitting an alien that won't SHUT UP!" he shouted the last part at the closet door.

"You know what?" the irritated guard continued, "I'm getting a little tired of putting up with that little orange piece of …." His eyes drifted over the 9-mm berretta that Dylan had left on the table, next to an empty can of beer.

Peter recognized that look in his partner's eye. "Whoa, what the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked, watching the other man pick up the gun.

"Calm down," Dylan spoke, loading a bullet into the chamber of the semi-automatic, "I'm not going to kill him, just scare him into shutting up."

"Well how do you know he'll even know what a gun is?"

"Oh, you mean besides the fact that he speaks English?" the sarcasm was dripping from Dylan's voice, "I'm just giving him what he deserves."

He crept over to the closet door, pulling a key out of his back pocket and inserting it in the lock. With one swift movement, he flung the door open and aimed the pistol down near the alien, catching him mid-scream.

"We gonna have any more problems?" Dylan asked.

…………………..

Outside the warehouse stood a lone man next to an entrance to the building, doing his best to keep warm against the cold breeze. Pretty uninteresting work, watching a door, but then again, being the new guy, this particular grunt always got the crap assignments.

Well, at least until now.

He noticed her ten minutes before she did, her blond hair and hazel eyes one the many highlights that he first noticed. And highlights did she have. Oh, if he wasn't on duty…

"Excuse me," Gorgeous asked, striding her amazing legs up to him. God, he really needed to get out more. "My husband and I are a bit lost, and I was wondering if you could give me directions to the nearest gas station," she finished.

Crap. Well, what the hell was he thinking anyway? Of course someone as beautiful as her would be hitched already. Already he could feel his mood growing sour.

"Yeah, you go North and take the third-" the watchman began before he heard the familiar hum of a Zat gun activating. But it was too late, by the time he spun around and began to draw his gun, the blue beam struck him dead in the chest, knocking him out.

Colonel O'Neill stood over the warehouse watchman, kicking him over so he lay on his back. "Hmm. Is it just me, or are these NID operatives getting younger and younger?"

Major Carter looked back at him, pulling out a Zat gun of her own, "Well to be fair, sir, we still haven't determined who these men work for."

"Call it a gut feeling," O'Neill offered, moving past the downed guard and reaching for the door.


End file.
